Whispers in the Dark
by Lilly Ledger
Summary: When Rachel Dawes is reported missing, the Joker is on the loose and doing deals with the Scarecrow, and Batman is incapacitated, what's a girl to do? Will Rachel save Harvey, Batman, or the strangely alluring Joker?


Authors Note:

Hey! This is my first story on here, and it's a re-do of a different story I wrote right when the Dark Knight came out. It kind of happens between the Dark Knight and Batman Begins, so Harvey isn't... Well... you know. :) Please comment and enjoy!

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Whispers in the Dark

By: Lilly Ledger

Bruce Wayne tapped his pencil against the smooth marble top of the conference room table, gazing absentmindedly out of the window. Gotham City was just waking; sunlight rippled over smooth steel buildings, pouring like molten gold into dark brick alleyways and dappling the green parks. Inside Wayne Enterprises, the building was silent but for the small clinking of the eraser against the table.

"Mr Wayne, what a surprise!" Bruce looked up to see the dark, weathered, freckled face of Lucius Fox smiling at him from the doorway.

"Lucius." Bruce nodded with a little half-smile, then sighed and looked out the window again. He made no indication that he noticed Lucius's advance, but was unsurprised when the older man pulled out the chair beside him and sat down. Lucius crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, and considered the young millionaire. His dark eyes didn't overlook even the smallest details, such as how Bruce's normally slick dark brown hair was slightly ruffled, or the jagged edges of Bruce's ruined fingernails, or even the crinkled, un-tucked-in mess of a suit the boy was wearing.

"Rough night?" Lucius asked after a moment of silence.

"What?" Bruce looked up, his brow rippling with surprise; he had been so absorbed in his thoughts that the jerk back to reality made his ears ring lightly. "Oh..." he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess you could say that... How did you know?"

Lucius laughed in a deep tenor, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. His was a friendly, open, yet knowledgeable smile. "Mr Wayne, the smooth, Bond-like playboy of Gotham sitting in a conference room at five in the morning looking so... uncouth?" He winked. "Nothing peculiar about that."

Bruce laughed a little too. "If you've got a problem with my dry-cleaning, old man, you'll have to take it up with them." They both chuckled, bringing that much more pleasant aura to the crisp room. "What about you, Lucius? Don't you have a wild enough of a night life to keep you from making it to work this early?"

"Of course, but I'm aiming to get paid for over-time. What with my rocking bachelor pad and all, the landlord's considering raising the rent."

"As opposed to raising the roof,"

"Of course, Mr Wayne." Lucius smiled, inclining his head just a bit. "To be serious, though, Mr Wayne, shouldn't _you_ be out doing something of that sort? A youthful, handsome man like you shouldn't always be stuck inside on days like today. Why don't you call up some pretty young lady and take a picnic?"

Bruce smirked and looked out of the window wistfully. "Ah, that would be nice now wouldn't it. But I think all I'm going to be doing today is sleeping. Wayne Enterprises can do without me for one day, can't it?"

"Of course, Mr Wayne."

"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Bruce?"

"I'd say... At least three more times."

"Of course." Bruce stood, shook Lucius's hand, and walked towards the wide double doors at the end of the conference room. In the doorway, he paused and turned around. "Lucius?" The older man looked over at him with a ready smile. "Thank you."

"Any time, Mr Wayne." The door shut, and Lucius looked out on Gotham city. It sparkled in the early-morning sun and dew like jewels. "Any time."

~*-*~

I glanced quickly over my shoulder, then darted through the doorway. No one was in the next room, and I let out a small breath of relief. If Alfred caught me, somehow he'd talk me into staying for breakfast, and then lunch, maybe even dinner... The man would probably die of happiness if I ever decided to move in.

"Master Wayne needs a more social life, Rachel," Alfred had said. "The poor boy is so caught up in this Batman of his, that I fear he's becoming dark and hollow inside. I see it in his eyes when he sees you; he's _happy_. I wish he could look like that all the time."

I sighed and pushed the memory from my mind. Even _I _could see what Bruce thought when he looked at me, how his dark, intelligent eyes lit up. Sometimes, I could even see the little boy I had befriended so many years ago in him. But lately, the Batman had stolen that from me.

My grip tightened on the small brass key in my hand, and I shoved it into the vanity with perhaps more force than was necessary. Just an immediate reaction I'd come to have when I heard mention of the caped crusader, one that I'd been trying to make a conscious effort to suppress. Obviously it wasn't working that well.

A small click sounded as the latch came undone, and I withdrew the key, tugging open the drawer as I went. Inside was a few dusty old books, a few random pieces of jewelry, and... a photograph. My fingers trembled when they brushed along the glossy edges, and my breathing became more shallow as I pulled it out. "Oh, Mom..." I whispered as I looked at the familiar image; me as a seven-year-old, sitting in the gardens in Wayne Manor. My mother had her arm around my shoulder, so beautiful and porcelain. My heart ached as I studied her features, how her cheekbones cut across her face just so, how her full lips were tilted upright in the never-ending smile...

"Rachel?"

I let out a sharp gasp, dropped the picture hastily into the drawer, and whirled around. I leaned against the vanity in attempt to close the drawer as inconspicuously as possible. "Bruce!"

He smiled at me from the doorway. "Hey, stranger." He leaned against the frame, his eyes taking in everything. In a very Bruce-ish manner, he didn't even ask what I was doing rooting around in his house. Bruce knew me better than I knew myself, sometimes. "Long time no see."

"Yeah." I grabbed my purse and clutched it to myself like a safety anchor. "The elections are coming up in a month. I have to sort through all the candidates. It's been really hectic at the DA's office."

"Dumbledore's Army," muttered Bruce, then winked. "I know, I know. I just... I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." He walked across the room and took my hand; my heart thudded unevenly in my chest as I ran through possible escape routes in my mind. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Bruce." I tried to not let some of my irritability slip into my voice, but failed. "I have to go, I just wanted-"

"Rachel, please." I watched as his face fell, although the action wasn't noticeable to anyone who didn't know him as well as I did. "Can't you stay for just a little bit? Come see a movie with me, or something. Please."

I searched his eyes, feeling my resolve falter infinitesimally. He seemed so... hopeful. How could I say no? How could I let the light leave those eyes, the eyes of my very best friend? Even if things weren't quite as they should be... I exhaled and smiled a bit. "I guess I could catch a movie. But then I need to get going..."

Already I could see distractions forming in his mind. He would trap me here one way or another. "That's great. Thank you, Rachel."

I smiled and nodded and tried not to think of how cruel this world was, where my best friend Bruce Wayne would have to thank me for my company.

~*-*~

"You're a hard man to find."

Dr Jonathan Crane, known only as the Scarecrow to his clients, gasped and whirled around. His eyes searched the dark alleyway frantically, but he came up with nothing but the ghost of a voice that had spoken to him. "Hello? Who's there?" He struggled to regain his composure.

Someone giggled from the shadows. "It's your Fairy Godmother, of course. You _are_ Cinderella, am I right?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes and smoothed his black hair back, angling his body towards the shadows where the voice appeared to be coming from. He was used to the wackos that Gotham seemed overrun by, but _this_ was just a tad out of the ordinary for the usual customer.

"Of course you are," continued the voice. "I can tell by your _be-a-u-tiful, feminine_ face."

"Look, I don't know who you are, but can we just get this over with?" He tapped his foot impatiently on the gravel. "I'm a very busy man."

"Oh, I can tell that by your professional looking... uh... briefcase. Don't worry, Cindy-rella, I won't keep you waiting long."

Jonathan frowned. "Can we cut the theatrics? It's an insult to _my_ intelligence... _Yours_, on the other hand, seems quite adequate for my usual clients."

"Cut the theatrics?" the voice echoed. "Why so serious, Doc? Life isn't any fun without... laughter." The shadows giggled again as if to prove its point. Simultaneously to the odd, keening noise, something moved and into the moonlight stepped a man with a white painted face, black eyes, and a wide, red smile. Something rippled abnormally on the skin on either side of his mouth. Jonathan blinked and fell back half a step. As if to counter-act his foolish moment of shocked scrutiny, Crane said,

"Nice clothes. What was it, discount day at Goodwill? Or – no, wait. Let me guess. You got kicked right out of clown college because your jokes weren't worth bull."

His client laughed, the noise echoing oddly back down at them from the high brick ways of the alley. "Nice one," he giggled out. "I'll have to file that one back for future, uh, reference."

"I'm glad you find me to be so amusing," replied Jonathan dryly. "Now can we _please_ complete this transaction? My patience is wearing thin... _clown_."

His patron smirked. "Whatever I can do to put a smile on that face."

"Remind me what we're doing here again?" Jonathan asked, tilting his head to consider the other man.

"I am here to buy some of that _lovely _concoction of yours... the one that will make... uh... Bats go _bat-tee_ at the sight of me."

Jonathan shot him a smug look as he retorted, "I don't think you need a potion to do _that_, my friend." His pulse quickened as a cop car drove past the entrance to the alley, blocking the lights from the lamps momentarily. Then, in all seriousness, he added, "I'm assuming you know my cost? Capturing the Batman doesn't exactly come at discount price."

The painted man tossed him a large packet of money, his black eyes glinting with an emotion that Jonathan couldn't quite place. "As they say, Mr... ah... Scarecrow, '_keep the change_'. Maybe you could buy some testosterone with it." At Crane's murderous look, he laughed. "Please, don't... thank _me_. I'm always willing to help a _worthy cause_."

Dr Crane delved into his briefcase, and when his hand reappeared he was holding a tiny crystal vial filled with a slightly luminous green substance. He shook it and grinned, his face tinted with jade.

"All _that _green for so _little_ green?" murmured the buyer. His tongue flicked out across his bottom lip, a tendency that seemed so habitual to him that it was involuntary by now. He extended a hand that was gloved in deep purple leather and waited as Jonathan gave him an exasperated look and pressed it into his palm.

"Ever heard the saying that there's no small parts, only small actors?"

"Yeah-huh." The painted man slipped the vial into his coat pocket and popped his lip; obviously now that he had what he wanted, he had lost interest in what Jonathan had to say. Crane nodded at the now-concealed liquid.

"Same goes with my little invention. The amount may seem insignificant, but its part in whatever you have planned may be even more potent than your own. Especially when it's a concentrated dose; the mind can only take so much."

"Better work as well as you say it does, Doc." The man popped his lip once more, grinned, and then was gone before Jonathan could say anything more.

~*-*~

"Bruce, honestly." I fixed him with a hard glare, placing my hands on my hips. "I need to be going. I'm assistant DA, for goodness sakes. I'm already late as it is for my meeting with Harvey."

Bruce glanced up at the name, the gentle smile on his face dissolving into a puzzled frown. His angular features were darkly contrasted due to the faint light of the single lamp, and he set down the scrapbook. "Your meeting with... who?"

"Harvey Dent." I studied him, trying to figure out why it mattered. Usually I could read him, but Bruce was gone now. It was Batman here in front of me, suspicious and alerted. "He's a candidate for District Attorney. You _know_ the elections are coming up soon," I added in attempt to distract him. The last thing I needed was for Batman to be tailing me during my meeting like an overprotective brother on steroids.

"Yes, I know." He stood and appraised me for a long moment. The way his features hardened just so told me that he was thinking fast, trying to act as though everything was fine. Finally he said, "I'm sure he wouldn't object to an escort? You _are_ assistant DA. You need protection."

"From Harvey?" I choked back a laugh. "Bruce, you've _met_ him. You know as well as I do that I'm in no danger of being shot at or something _ridiculous_ like that when I'm with him."

Bruce winced, but knew he had no argument. While neither of us were really anything more than mutual acquaintances with Harvey, from what we _did_ know he was an amiable, good-looking guy. Now that I considered it, maybe that's _why_ Bruce was worried. Competition and all that stupid _male_ stuff. "Well... Okay. But we need to get together again soon. It was so nice seeing you after all this time."

"Yeah, it was," I agreed, my tone softening a little. "We'll have to arrange something."

"How about dinner Friday night?" He looked excited at the prospect. "I can think of a few restaurants that would be fun."

"Fun, Bruce?" I echoed, incredulous.

"Yeah, fun. Like Chuck E. Cheese's."

We both laughed, and for a moment it was just like it used to be, before he'd gone away and been assumed dead. Before we'd both grown up. Before Mom dying. "Well, I guess that wouldn't hurt," I was slow to reply. I could see how untrue that simple statement was. It _would_ hurt, but Bruce was my _friend_. How could I not enjoy being near him, even if he wanted something more?

My phone started ringing then, it's shrill sound echoing off the walls. "Oops," I said as I clawed it out of my pocket. "That would be Harvey." I gave Bruce a long, calculating look. "I have to go. I'll see you Friday."

"What time should I pick you up?" he asked as he opened the door for me, and flashed me another brilliant smile.

"7:00," I replied, then sucked in a deep breath. "Bye, Bruce."

"Bye. Hope your meeting goes well."

"Thanks." I climbed into my car and shoved the keys into the ignition. When I pulled out, the wheels screamed against the gravel, and I really hoped Bruce had been wise enough to stand out of the shower of little rocks spewing behind my vehicle. When I had finally gone far enough, I pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and had to breathe slowly.

"Rachel Dawes," I asked myself out loud in a stern, reprimanding voice, "What in the world have you gotten yourself into?"

I didn't respond, because I didn't have an answer. _Oh well_, I thought bitterly as I put the car back into gear again.

It was a rhetorical question anyways.

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Authors Note:

Okay, so again, bear in mind that this is my first story.

Please comment, and feel free to critisize. Not my best work, but... it'll do.

Also, please note that I do not own any of the charactors or places, etc - only the storyline.

Thanks, and have an awesome day!


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